


A Common Pulse

by sdwolfpup



Category: due South
Genre: I thought you were dead, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-15
Updated: 2006-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: “You don’t have to worry about me, Ray.”“Yes, I do, you stupid Mountie. I love you.”





	A Common Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for silver_cyanne for the fraser_vecchio Ficathon! See the end of the story for what she requested. Thank you to pipsqueaky and mlyn for beta services! You were both excellent, and you helped make the story stronger. Thanks to brynnmck for a last sanity check and title assistance.

“Memorial Day is all about barbecuing, Benny.” Ray gestured grandly with his arms, encompassing the barbecue, the yard, the whole world. 

“I thought it was meant to honor the dead.”

“Yeah, of course there’s that, I’m not a barbarian. But it’s also the first barbecue of the season.”

“And which branch of the armed forces are the hot dogs for?”

Ray grinned at his friend – his best friend. His boyfriend. That still sounded weird, but he figured 37 years of Catholic upbringing would do that to a guy. He liked Benny’s joking voice, and Fraser had been using it more and more since they’d made their relationship officially A Relationship. A year ago he’d invited Benny to the barbecue, but not as his date. This year, they both understood what the invitation meant.

Fraser was sitting in one of the folding lawn chairs, head tilted back to peer up at Ray, and squinting into the sun. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, which had grown long again. It was just the right length now to be played with when they lay together, or for Ray to thread his fingers in when they were doing other things besides laying there. Fraser was smiling, holding a can of O’Doul’s and looking relaxed.

Ray glanced cautiously around the empty yard - even though the rest of his family had migrated south for the long weekend, he still reflexively checked - and then kissed Fraser. Benny tasted like near-beer and sour cream and chives. The kissing was a new addition to the barbecue this year, too, and the best, in Ray’s opinion. Fraser had soft lips and a greedy way with his mouth and one kiss was never enough. Especially when Fraser fisted his free hand in Ray’s shirt, dragging him almost into his lap. Ray groaned, sliding his tongue into Fraser’s mouth. He held himself up with his hands tight against Fraser’s strong, sun-warmed arms, keeping a tantalizing distance between them. With the breeze and the sun and Fraser restlessly shifting beneath him, Ray nearly ripped off both of their clothes right there. He didn’t remember when he’d finally realized this was what he wanted but, God, was he glad he had. _Occasionally, Vecchio, you are not as stupid as you look._ He slid his hands down Fraser’s chest and slipped his fingers underneath Benny’s shirt, caressing the smooth skin underneath, feeling him quiver there. Fraser tilted his head, licking and nibbling hungrily at Ray’s mouth. He had brought his hands to Ray’s hips when Ray heard a car pull into the driveway.

“Damn,” Ray murmured against Fraser’s lips, kissing him soundly again before standing up and adjusting his erection. Fraser was watching him, red-lipped and hungry, and Ray had to look away. It wouldn’t do to call off the barbecue entirely just as the boss pulled up. Though it was still tempting.

Hiding himself behind the barbecue, Ray yelled “We’re in the backyard” when he heard the doorbell. He noticed Fraser strategically holding his beer can in his lap, and the sight of the Mountie looking so awkward made Ray grin. He waved his barbecue tongs at Welsh and Huey when they came through the back door. “Hey guys, glad you could make it.”

“I would never miss a free barbecue, Vecchio.” Jack opened up the cooler and pulled out a bottle of Miller. “You have really shitty taste in beer though.”

“Thanks, Jack. Lieutenant.”

Welsh nodded and also grabbed a beer from the cooler. “MGD. My favorite,” he said.

“It was a hunch, sir.” Ray gave Jack an imperious stare and the other detective flipped him the bird in return.

“Constable.” Welsh tilted his beer in Fraser’s direction in greeting and Fraser nodded, keeping his beer can where it was. Ray took a surreptitious glance down at himself. Nothing like co-workers to completely break a mood.

“Lieutenant. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“I’m sure it is. It’s been all of twelve hours, hasn’t it?”

“Thirteen and a half, actually.”

“A lifetime.” Welsh walked over to the grill and inspected it critically. Ray followed his gaze, saw the rows of hot dogs plump and juicy, the thick burgers that sizzled over the hot coals, and the foil-wrapped vegetable kabobs. The grill looked clean – Ray had spent most of the morning scrubbing it – and the coals were just the right heat. Welsh grunted. “Looks good,” he said, sounding vaguely disappointed.

“Thank you, sir. We’ve got a few more minutes before they’re ready.” There was an awkward silence filled with the pop of bottles being opened and a big-throated bird a few yards away singing up a storm. Ray held up his beer. “How about a toast?”

Fraser nodded and stood up. “That’s an excellent idea, Ray.” He held his beer up as well, mirroring Ray. Huey and Welsh both followed. They stood there quietly for a few seconds, looking at him.

Ray blinked. “Oh, uh, right. I’ll give the toast.” He considered what to say for a moment. This kind of emotional stuff made him vaguely itchy and uncomfortable, but it seemed only right, especially with who wasn’t in the small circle with them. “Here’s to all of the fallen who couldn’t be here to eat and drink with us. May they be happier in Heaven than they were on earth.”

They all took a drink and before they could move, Welsh said, “To Louis Gardino. He was a hell of a cop.”

“To Louis,” they responded in unison. Fraser added, “ _yet, lest I weep, the breeze / sings some forgotten song of those old years / until my heart grows far too glad for tears_.” They all took a longer drink that time. Ray’s beer tasted warm and flat on his tongue.

Ray turned to Huey and saw the other man looking like he was gonna lose it, so Ray slugged him on the shoulder. If their places were reversed and it was Fraser they were saluting, Ray’d want someone to slug him, too. Preferably right in the face to knock him out cold. “Hey, you want dogs or burgers?”

With that, Fraser turned on the CD player that he’d brought out under Ray’s instructions earlier. Up-tempo New Orleans jazz started playing, breaking the somber mood. Ray spent the next half hour cooking and serving, exchanging verbal jabs with Huey when they weren’t commiserating over the lousy season the Cubs were bound to have again this year, tapping his foot in time with the beat. He slipped Diefenbaker small pieces of meat periodically, and the wolf took up permanent residence next to the barbecue, keeping him company when the other three men were eating and chatting.

Partway through the afternoon, Ray glanced over at Fraser, who was animatedly explaining something to Welsh while Huey half-dozed in a lawn chair. Ray thought he heard something about hot dogs and horses, but he didn’t really want to listen hard enough to find out. It was far more enjoyable to watch Fraser gesturing with his strong hands, making lots of short, contained motions that never encroached on anyone but Ray’s personal space. He looked good in the simple white t-shirt, although it set off how pale he was from the winter. They’d have to get out somewhere sunny and warm this summer, maybe try an all-over tan.

Welsh was losing interest and Ray was growing more interested so he called out, “Benny, come help me get more franks.”

“I’ll be happy to help in a minute, Ray, I just want to finish telling Lieutenant Welsh about my encounter with a rogue butcher in Canada several years ago.”

“No, please,” Welsh nearly shoved Fraser towards Ray, “go right ahead.”

“We can continue later, then, Lieutenant.” Fraser jogged over towards Ray, moving with a simple ease that Ray had always envied, and met him at the back door to the house. “After you,” Fraser said, gesturing. Ray felt Fraser’s hand on his back as he stepped in front of the Mountie, and when the door slid closed, the pressure of his hand slid further down, making Ray shiver.

“Not in front of the door,” Ray murmured, but he was already moving further into the kitchen and they were away from the windows now, safe from prying eyes. Fraser pressed him up against the counter, his cock hot and hard against Ray’s ass. Ray gasped and clutched the edge, knocking one of the dish towels to the floor. “Christ, Benny.”

“I’m sorry, Ray. I could leave if you want,” he murmured in his most polite Mountie voice. He pressed harder against Ray and then started to pull back.

“No,” Ray nearly shouted. “This is good,” he added more softly.

“I’ll help you get the food arranged,” Fraser whispered, his breath hot and ticklish on Ray’s ear. Ray groped on the counter for a plate, shifted a little to open the fridge for the hot dogs. Fraser stayed right behind him, reached his arms around either side of Ray to steady them both, surrounding Ray with warmth. His hips fit snug against Ray, his legs spread a little to keep their feet from colliding. Every breath that Ray took was filled with the smell of Fraser’s soap and sweat and the sweet tang of barbecue sauce.

Fraser kept up a constant pressure, hot and firm against Ray and sliding a little whenever Ray moved. The frame of his arms was loose, allowing Ray to shift around but never more than half a foot to either side. Not that he was planning to move more than was absolutely necessary anyway; he was enjoying the firm press of muscles against his back, the light brush of Fraser’s arms against his own, the insistent thickness of Fraser’s erection. Ray’s own cock was hard and constricted against the counter; he pushed back a little to adjust and heard Fraser groan.

Ray steadied himself on the counter and then pushed back again, more insistently. He ached to be touched, but he couldn’t move his hands from where they were pressed down hard on the countertop, the tile cool under his sweaty palms. Ray felt 18 again, making out in a bedroom or basement where the adults could step in at any moment. Fraser pressed his forehead against Ray’s neck and his breath hit Ray’s back in hot, heavy puffs.

Breathing fiercely himself, Ray stilled, saw Fraser’s knuckles going white where he gripped the edge of the counter. He swallowed hard. “Benny, we better stop.”

Fraser’s hair brushed Ray as he nodded and then kissed the back of Ray’s neck before stepping away. The breeze cooled the ghost of his kiss. Ray tried not to whimper ungracefully.

“You’re right, Ray, we shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Fraser said. He sounded as breathless as Ray felt.

Turning to face Fraser, Ray kissed him quickly. “You’ll have to help me again later,” he said, grinning. Fraser grinned in return, his normally cool blue eyes dark with passion. Benny looked beautiful on a bad day, but like this, he was almost unbearably attractive. _You’re a lucky bastard, Vecchio._

At dusk, while Huey, Welsh, and Fraser were inside watching the baseball game, Ray stood out front with Dief and watched the street, a beer bottle sweating in his hand, a smile on his face. The air had turned cool and crisp, a reminder that it still wasn’t quite summer yet. The men’s voices, floating out on the breeze, were excited, but they calmed something deep and domestic in Ray. Though Ray was happy to have Huey and Welsh there, when they left, they’d leave Fraser and him alone, and Ray was happier with that. They’d clean up, throwing away the paper plates and plastic cups, Fraser insisting they recycle the bottles and Ray would let him stumble on the recycling bin that he’d already pulled out of the garage. Then maybe they’d watch the end of the game, sitting together on the couch with Dief snuffling around for leftovers or just sleeping in the most comfortable armchair in the room. Ray could lean over and whisper in Fraser’s ear, get him to smile or laugh, tease a kiss out of him. And then who knew? Maybe they wouldn’t see the end of the game at all.

Diefenbaker rolled onto his back on the grass and squirmed around, making noises that sounded like he was really enjoying himself. Ray watched him until Dief flopped over onto his side with a grunt.

“I can’t imagine you surviving in the wild,” Ray said. He took a long drink of beer, stopping when Dief whined at him. “What, now you want beer?” Dief barked. “No way. Fraser would kill us both.” Dief barked again. “No I am not afraid of Fraser. But you’re his wolf-“ Dief yipped a few times in annoyance. “That’s what the fake license says, my friend.” With a groan, Dief rolled himself onto his back again. Ray rolled his eyes. “Give a wolf a fish and he’s full for a day. Give a wolf a donut and you’ll never eat in peace again.”

From inside the house came shouting. Ray tilted his head towards it. “Sounds like they scored on us, boy.” Dief whined. “Yeah, well, if we had a defense worth fielding, then-“

A loud crash from across the street stopped Ray’s rant, and his startled jerk brought Dief to his feet. It had come from the Romano’s house, and Ma had told him it was empty this weekend while the family was on vacation. She’d wanted Ray to watch it, even though they hadn’t had a burglary on their street in over a decade. There was a flicker of movement in the shadows. “Dief,” Ray whispered, “go get Benny and the others.” The wolf trotted into the house and Ray swallowed the last of his beer and wielded the bottle by the neck.

He started across the street at a slow jog, turned his head slightly to acknowledge Fraser moving up next to him, his presence immediately putting Ray at ease. Ray explained the noise in hushed tones and then gestured for Fraser to circle around the other side of the house. He heard Huey’s and Welsh’s heavier steps a distance away, the solid, comforting sounds of backup. Poking his head around the side of the house, he saw a figure doing something to the back door, and then, beyond the figure at the other end of the house, Fraser coming around the corner. They exchanged nods, and both leapt forward to tackle the intruder, who went down with a shout.

Ray flipped him over, dropping his beer bottle to hold the struggling figure down with both hands. Ray tried to make out his face in the dim light, until a flashlight beam pierced the darkness. Ray blinked. “Martin? What the hell are you doing? You _live_ here!”

“You can’t arrest someone for breaking into their own house, Ray,” Fraser said.

“Get off me!” the kid shouted, struggling harder.

“It’s certainly not a crime we typically arrest people for, Vecchio,” Welsh said. Ray looked over his shoulder and saw Welsh was holding the flashlight. The lieutenant gestured, and the beam bobbed over the grass. It flashed into Ray’s eyes, blinding him for a moment. “Let him go.”

Ray grunted and stood up, dusting off his knees while Fraser helped Martin stand, the teenager muttering curses the whole time.

“Good job, Ray. Should we add him to your perp total?”

“Shut up, Jack.”

Huey laughed and turned to go. Welsh handed the flashlight over to Ray. It was the emergency one from the house; Ray figured Fraser had pointed it out to them. “See you tomorrow morning, Vecchio. The food was delicious. The hot dogs were just the right level of juicy. And your mother’s egg salad was exquisite.” He fell silent and then shook his head, as though waking from a dream. “Constable.”

“Good night, Lieutenant.”

Welsh and Huey ambled off, Welsh reminding Jack that he needed to be dropped off back at the station to pick up his car. Martin was still standing between Fraser and Ray and staring sullenly at the ground. The breeze picked up, blowing a handful of leaves past them. “We should get him inside,” Ray said, testing the door and finding it locked. “And then he can tell us what the hell is going on.”

“I’m not telling you nothing.”

“Anything.”

“What?”

Ray searched under the mat and found a key. He shook his head in dismay. How many times had he told them not to leave that key there?

“The grammatically correct sentence would be ‘I’m not telling you anything,’” Fraser was saying, “not ‘nothing.’”

“What the fuck does it matter?”

“’A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.’” Ray and Martin both turned to stare at Fraser then. He regarded them with an even look. “King Solomon, proverb 25:11.”

Ray unlocked the door and threw it open. “Get in there.”

Martin stepped through first, taking a hesitant step inside before moving into the dark of the house. Ray held Fraser up at the door. “Apples of gold?”

“It’s a metaphor, Ray.”

Ray shook his head. “Get inside, will you?” He followed Fraser inside, grumbling. “Apples of gold. I’ll give you apples of gold.”

Martin had turned on the lights and Ray instinctively tensed, searching all of the corners and shadowed doorways. He did a quick sweep of the bottom floor of the house, passed Fraser doing the same thing while Martin turned on every light he could find. Ray had to blink against the brightness. He flicked one of the smaller lamps off and Martin stomped up and turned it back on. Ray glared at him and turned it off again. On. Off. On. Off. Ray grabbed Martin’s hand before he could turn it back on.

“What’s your problem, kid, afraid of the dark?”

“What if I am?”

“Then you shouldn’t be here all alone. Where’s your family? I heard you were supposed to be gone all weekend.”

Martin left the lamp off and threw himself down on the couch. Ray glanced over at Fraser, who shrugged a little. “I came home early. That’s not a crime, _detective._ ”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“You want me to be stupid?”

Ray started towards him, but Fraser stepped in between. “Are you expecting someone, Martin?”

Martin clamped his arms around his body and slid further into the couch. Ray recognized that look, having perfected it himself as a teenager. He’d had no idea how annoying it was; not that he would have cared when he was fifteen. “No.”

“I find it curious that you would turn on all the lights, yet not check that the doors are locked, and also leave the windows open.” He pointed behind Ray to curtains that were pulled back to provide a clear view of the street. “Typically someone who turns on all the lights is afraid of the dark, and so they do what they can to shut it out.”

Martin leapt up then. “That’s a great idea. Get out so I can close everything up.”

Fraser blinked and glanced at Ray, and all Ray could do was shrug in return. “You said it yourself, Fraser, you can’t arrest someone for breaking into their own house.”

“We could stay if you’d like, Martin. Whatever you’re here for, we can help with. Perhaps we could watch the end of the baseball game together?”

Ray watched Martin’s face, saw his resolve waver. The teen looked away towards a wall filled with pictures of his family, a collage of yellowed photos and glossy new ones. When he looked back at them, Ray knew what was coming next.

“I came home early because I was sick of being around people, ok? Just go.” Fraser opened his mouth but Martin cut him off. “I’m fine.”

“Come on Benny.” Ray took one last look around the room and led Fraser out of the house. Martin slammed the door shut behind them without saying goodbye. Taking a deep breath of night air, Ray lifted his eyes to the now-dark sky. Almost no stars were visible. The last half hour had wiped away his pleasant alcoholic buzz and now all he wanted was to snap at somebody.

“Ray-“

“I don’t want to hear it.” He started across the street, specifically not stopping to look both ways first. He knew that would get Fraser’s goat. Glancing back, he saw Fraser check and then check again before jogging after him.

“Ray-“

“Fraser, he’s a fifteen year old punk. His parents are probably thrilled that he left.” Ray stomped across the lawn, the dewy grass wetting his ankles.

“ _Ray_.” Fraser grabbed his arm and Ray spun around.

“What, Fraser? What do you want us to do? We can’t arrest him, we can’t force our way into his house. Didn’t you ever have a tantrum when you were a teenager?” Ray waved his hands in front of him. “No, don’t answer that, you probably didn’t.”

“He didn’t lock the door,” Fraser said.

“What?”

“When we left, he never locked the door. Why did he break into his own house if there was a key under the mat? Why leave the lights on but leave the windows open? His behavior doesn’t add up, Ray.”

Ray glanced across the street at the Romano’s house, and saw the lights going off one by one. Martin’s silhouette paused in the front window before the light went dark.

Ray sighed. “Yeah, ok Benny, we’ll watch out for him tonight.”

Sometime later, Ray felt someone poking him sharply in the side, and his name whispered in quiet but urgent tones, over and over. “Ray. Ray. Ray.”

He tried to wave it away, shifted – was he in a chair? – and frowned at the ache in his back. But the poking was joined by a gentle shake until he finally blinked his eyes opened and saw Fraser a few inches from his face, his breath tickling Ray’s nose.

“Benny?”

Fraser smiled and kissed him quickly, then pulled Ray up to a full sitting position from where he’d been slumped in the La-Z-Boy in front of the window. “Someone has crept up to the Romano house.”

Ray leapt to his feet, nearly knocking over the small lawn chair that Fraser had been sitting in. Fraser reached out to steady it, and then steadied Ray when he went light-headed. Blinking back the fuzziness of sleep, Ray peered out the window but couldn’t see anything. Quickly strapping on his holster, Ray asked, “Where?”

Fraser pointed to the left side of the house, and Ray stared as hard as he could, until finally his eyes adjusted and there was a barely noticeable difference in the shadows by the side of the house. He holstered his gun and nodded at Fraser. “Let’s go.”

Fraser returned the nod and settled his Stetson on his head, then motioned to Dief to follow them as they crept out of the house. Crouched over, they moved quickly and quietly to the sidewalk and, once the shadow had disappeared around to the back of the house, across the street.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Ray whispered, suddenly wondering why he’d agreed to let Fraser get him into yet another one of these situations.

“You are the police, Ray.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I already put in a call to 911. I’m not entirely stupid.”

Ray flicked him a glance, but Fraser was focused on the house. They paused at the front, ducking together behind a large rosebush. Dief crowded in next to them. The air was heavy with the scent of new flowers. “Split up and around the sides again?” Ray asked in his quietest voice. Fraser nodded in agreement and patted Ray on the knee before popping up and moving to the rosebush mirroring the other side of the walkway. Dief followed silently after him.

Glancing up at the sky again – there were still no stars out – Ray offered up a brief prayer and pulled out his gun. He led with the muzzle, and then poked his head around enough to make sure the way was clear. Holding the gun parallel to his body, his back against the house, Ray took a step forward. His movement was met by the sharp crack of a gunshot and the eerie sound of glass shattering. In that moment, Ray heard an “oof” and the instant of agonizing silence that followed was cut down by Dief’s wild barking.

Ray turned the corner back to the front of house to see Fraser lying still in the grass. In his head he screamed out Fraser’s name, but there was no sound except pounding footsteps from deeper inside the house, followed by another gunshot further back. And then shrill, terrified screaming split the air.

With _JesusJesusJesus_ roaring through his head, Ray ran for the front of the house and the kid’s screams. Fraser would be ok. He was always ok. _Except_ , some dark part of him murmured in his father’s voice, _he never just lays there, not even when he’s shot, hell not even when he was blind and half paralyzed, not if there’s still a criminal loose._ Ray pressed against the outside of the house, the brick rough against his back and tried to hear over his own choked breathing. He’d only seen Fraser that still once before, when it had been Ray’s own bullet that had nearly killed him, and that mess had been almost too much to bear as it was. He caught the faint smell of cordite, and someone inside muttering harshly. From his vantage point, Ray could see only Fraser’s boot. He wanted to throw up.

Instead, he swallowed down lunch and licked his lips and slowly opened the front door. Ducking against the expected gunfire, Ray blinked and peered into the darkness, but there was no movement in the shadows. Everything was still.

There was a stairway to the right of him that curled around and up two more flights, similar to his own home. From upstairs, Ray heard the creak of floorboards, and re-gripped his gun with his sweaty hands. The cops would be here soon. Fraser wasn’t moving. The kid was sobbing from one of the rooms but it was impossible to pinpoint where. Ray stepped onto the first step and then the next. This guy had shot Fraser, had blown a hole into the Mountie’s fucking head for all Ray knew, and he was climbing upstairs to get him. He froze on the fourth step, unable to move, to breathe. He couldn’t remember if Fraser had been wearing his Stetson.

It was dumb, Ray knew it was dumb, but suddenly he had to know. Gauging where Fraser would be lying, pausing only to confirm that the shooter had moved further in, Ray darted up the stairs and dove to the right, where he guessed a room would be. He realized he was in a narrow hallway a second before he slammed into the wall. “Goddammit,” he hissed, his shoulder aching. He took another few steps and went through an open door into one of the small bedrooms. Gulping hard against the pain and the fear, Ray listened, but now there was no movement at all, just the kid’s sobs echoing through the house like a lonely ghost.

Then a heavy step, heavier than Martin would make, somewhere on this floor but far enough away that Ray had time to wipe his hands down his pants and catch his breath. There was a small, high window in this room, but the mad need to see Fraser’s Stetson had been jolted out of him with his collision with the wall.

Now there was just cold, sharp fury.

Ray checked that the gun was fully loaded, and he edged back out into the hallway. In the distance came the scream of sirens. There was a flash of white at the edge of his vision. Diefenbaker. Dief had left Fraser’s side, which meant either Fraser had sent him – _then why wasn’t he here, too?_ – or the wolf was out for revenge. Ray nodded at Dief and pointed to the second set of upper stairs. “Find the kid,” he mouthed to the wolf, and Dief took off on silent feet. Ray knew these big, drafty houses carried sound differently than most places. The shooter still being on this level meant he hadn’t figured that out yet, and he was still letting the vents fool him into thinking Martin was nearby.

Creeping down the hallway, Ray paused every few steps to listen again, to feel out where the other guy was. If Fraser were here- Ray cut that thought off fast. Thinking of Benny, of Fraser, was dangerous. _Focus, Ray_. Cops weren’t trained for head shots, but Ray figured he could make an exception in this case. But only if he paid attention and ignored the awful clarity of Fraser’s boots not moving.

A bullet slammed into the wall in front of him and Ray fired back on reflex, blinded by the flash of light from his own gun. He fired off two more rounds and ducked, heard more bullets above and ahead of him. Blinking against the starbursts in his vision, Ray tried to make out anything through the smoke and dust. There was movement, dark and shadowy, and then Ray heard boots on the stairs.

“Shit,” he hissed, and ran forward, firing. The kid was screaming now, the sound coming from all around them, louder even than the crack of the guns and the bullets whizzing by Ray’s head. He didn’t care, he just fired until the chamber clicked, hoping he’d hit the son of a bitch in the back, in the head, in the nuts for all he cared. Somewhere where he could do a lot of damage and make the guy bleed to death slowly. Fraser was still out there on the grass, watering it with his blood. The bullets had stopped flying and Ray guessed they were both out of ammo now.

The screaming was louder, and so were the sirens, echoing up and down the street and getting everyone out of bed to go see the dead Mountie. Ray charged up the stairs and felt the movement of air just before the shooter tackled him to the ground.

In a haze filled with fury and fear, Ray struggled and twisted, kicked back with his leg, freed an arm and beat his elbow into the other man’s stomach. He scratched and yanked and pulled himself free long enough to shift his gun around in his hand and slam it into the other man’s head. There was a satisfyingly solid thud that vibrated through Ray’s arm. The shooter slammed Ray in the face with the palm of his hand and Ray spit blood and slammed the gun against the man’s head one more time before dropping it and using his fists.

Then through the sirens and the screaming and his own harsh rage, Ray heard Benny shouting at him “that’s enough, that’s enough!” Hands grabbed him and pulled him back, guiding him away. Ray’s fists wouldn’t unclench, he swung once or twice at the air until he heard Fraser’s voice again in his ear, “that’s enough, Ray.”

Ray twisted in the strong grip, found himself inches away from Fraser’s nose. He looked around for the ghost of his pop, too, and either Fraser’s ghost came alone or those hands were as real as they felt.

Ray gulped down air and swallowed blood. “I thought he’d killed you.”

“For a moment there, so had I.”

“You’re not dead?”

Fraser smiled, bright like the sun that afternoon. “No, Ray. I’m not dead.”

“Jesus. Jesus.” He spun to face Fraser completely and then hugged him hard. The front of Fraser’s shirt was cold and wet - _water_ , Ray thought, _just water from the grass_ \- and Ray could feel Fraser’s heart pounding. After a long embrace, he finally stepped away. “What the hell happened to you then? You scared me to death!”

“Ah.” Fraser tugged at his collar and looked astonishingly ashamed. And _alive_. And so damn good. Ray wanted to hug him again, but there were too many cops milling around, already studiously not-watching them. “Well, it’s a rather unique coincidence of events, really.”

“What’d you do, trip and knock yourself unconscious or something?”

“Ah. Actually…” Fraser scratched his eyebrow with his thumb, and Ray had to stifle a laugh.

“Oh my God, you did, didn’t you?”

“I was ducking the bullets, Ray,” Fraser said, sounding slightly annoyed.

“What did you hit?” Fraser wouldn’t look at him at all now. “Come on, Benny, just tell me what you knocked yourself out on.”

“A garden gnome.”  
  
Ray tried. He really tried not to laugh, but the image of Fraser - Fraser whom he’d thought was dead with a hole in his skull - knocking his fool Mountie head into a statue of a fat little gnome was too much after all the adrenaline, and Ray laughed until he cried.

He was still chuckling when they ushered him to the ambulance and made him sit down with a scratchy wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Fraser had received a gauze bandage much like he had had in their Canadian wilderness misadventure, but he had both hands steady on Ray’s shoulders, squeezing gently. As the EMT cleaned him up, and Ray’s equilibrium returned, he suddenly had the sick feeling this was a dream. The lights seemed too bright as they flashed red-blue across the house, the lawn, the paramedic in front of him. Ray was afraid to look at Fraser; it would be just his luck to look in time to see Fraser melt into Ray’s father.

“-can go,” the EMT was saying. Ray blinked and focused on the man in front of him.

“What?”

“You can go,” he repeated. “Just go easy on spicy foods for a few days or you’ll regret it with the cuts in your mouth. Now get out of my ambulance, I have real wounds to attend to.” He was smiling as he said it, and Ray watched Fraser thank him, take Ray’s blanket and fold it neatly before securing it in the ambulance. Fraser slammed the door shut, slapping it twice with his hand. The engine choked to life and they were bathed in the warm exhaust as the ambulance pulled away. Ray watched it go until it made a right turn and the taillights disappeared. He stared up at the sky and vainly searched for stars, but he could hardly see for the lights all over the street. There was a crowd on both sidewalks, men and women in old, thin robes; barefooted children crowded against their parents; teenagers craning their heads to see past the police and other personnel. Ray was just surprised the news team wasn’t there yet.

“Do you want me to drive you to the precinct?”

Focusing on Benny, Ray frowned. “Why would I want to go to the precinct?”

“You’ll need to make your report. Especially given the...condition of the criminal.”

“Is he dead?” Ray rolled the idea of it around in his head and came up feeling neutral.

“No, Ray. Just badly injured. You were quite forceful in your takedown.”

“I thought he’d killed you.”

Fraser nodded solemnly and put his arm around Ray, guiding him through the crowd and across the street. He made small talk with the neighbors, calling them all by name, explaining that Ray was all right, just tired and ready to get some sleep. Ray heard someone call him a hero, but by the time he looked around to see who it was, the faces had all blended together. Dief walked next to them, nails clicking against the asphalt.

The drive to the precinct passed in a disconnected haze. He was aware of Fraser driving the Riviera, going at a speed that normally would have made Ray shout with frustration. Instead he sat quietly in the front seat, Dief’s head on his shoulder. He thought he should probably move Dief to avoid getting wolf hair all over his shirt, but he liked the heavy weight. They both stared out at the empty streets of Chicago, the occasional shop light or streetlamp warmly illuminating the car as they passed under it. Ray turned his head to stare at Fraser, memorizing his profile. He looked fine, Ray realized. Entirely fine, as though none of that had just happened. Just another night out on the town: a little dinner, a little kissing, a little gunplay. No problem. Ray’s hands started to tremble.

Jack and Welsh were waiting at the precinct. “Decided to continue the fun without us, eh Vecchio?” Huey asked, but Ray just stared at him. Welsh opened interrogation room two for them, and Ray slumped into the rickety chair and folded his hands on the table. He’d been interviewed too many times in these rooms already. Fraser had wanted to come in with them but Welsh had kept him out. Ray figured he’d be behind the one-way glass. He imagined Fraser standing there, leaning against the wall and staring intently into the room, gauging it all and making whatever Mountie leaps he had to make.

“Busy night.”

Ray smirked. “Should have stayed for the after-party, Jack.”

“So what happened? How did you and the Mountie end up over there?”

“Fraser thought something weird was going on so we pulled an impromptu stakeout and watched the house. Someone crept up to it in the middle of the night, so we followed.”

“Could have been another one of the kids.”

“Yeah, that six-year old is real trouble.”

“Could have been a friend of the kid.”

“It wasn’t. Friends don’t usually shoot friends.” As soon as he said it, Ray wanted to take it back. He looked at the one-way glass, but all he saw was himself staring back, tired and shell-shocked. There were dark circles under his eyes and lines in his forehead he was pretty sure hadn’t been there that morning. Ray had never changed out of his clothes from earlier, so he was still wearing the same loose, blue shirt and white slacks, but both were spattered with dirt and blood.

“You and Fraser head over to check things out, and you grab your gun.”

Ray sat back in the chair, let his head fall back even further. “It was for protection. You’d have done the same thing.”

“Possibly.”

“’Possibly’ nothing. It was a high risk situation, Jack. I took precautions. Good thing I did, too, or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Fine, Vecchio.” Huey made a note on his paper. “You head over. You and Fraser split up, and then what?”

“A shot was fired from inside the house.” _I thought Fraser was dead._ “My partner was incapacitated so I took action and went inside.”

“Ah, yes, the…” Huey scanned his paper and then smiled wickedly, “the garden gnome.”

“Whatever. I went in, tracked the guy, exchanged shots until we both ran out and then I took him down. That’s all. Happy ever after.” Ray pushed the chair back and stood in one motion. His split lip was burning.

“Not so fast, Ray.” Huey motioned for him to sit, waiting until Ray did. “There are witnesses who heard the gunfire that can vouch for that, but have you checked out that guy’s face? You did more than just take him down.”

“He was trying to kill me. I need a better reason than that?”

Huey shrugged a little and made another note. “Just don’t be surprised if IA wants to talk to you.”

“Oh great. I haven’t seen them in three or four months, it’s about time again. I left my gun with Welsh for identification and testing. Can I go?”

Huey scanned the papers and then nodded. “You’re a free man.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly weary, Ray remained sitting. “Hey, what was the deal with that guy anyway? Why was he after the kid?”

“Your friend Martin had made a deal with the guy, one Jason Riley, to come take a small stash of drugs he had from the house while the family was gone, in exchange for some extra cash. Looks like Martin had second thoughts, though, and snuck home to try to head the deal off. But his friend apparently didn’t know, and even if he had he wouldn’t have called it off anyway. He went for the house, ran into Martin and got a little gun crazy. That’s where you and Fraser come in.” Huey opened the door and paused at the threshold. “We’ve called Martin’s parents, who were about to put out a missing person’s report. They’ll be home tomorrow morning.”

“Is Martin ok?”

“Scared to death. A little embarrassed, too, but not injured. He’ll probably get a light sentence at juvy.”

“Yeah, if he’s lucky.”

“If he’s lucky,” Huey agreed. “Go home, Ray. You look awful.”

“You’re a pal,” Ray said, smiling a little. Fraser appeared in the doorway then, hovering at the entrance. “Hey, Benny. Up for one more drive?”

They were silent on the trip home. Fraser parked the Riv in the driveway and pulled the keys out of the ignition with a rough scratch of metal. Ray smoothed a hand over his head, certain he’d somehow lost more hair tonight. At least Fraser wasn’t saying anything. It was probably killing him not to share some Inuit story, but Ray really couldn’t take another tale from the frozen north right now.

Fraser licked his bottom lip, and Ray threw open the passenger door. “Are you coming in?” he asked. He slammed the door shut again before Fraser could answer.

The two chairs were still in front of the window, and through the archway, where they’d left the kitchen light on, Ray saw the stack of dishes that he’d put off doing earlier. There was a faint smell of beer and hamburgers, and Dief followed the scent into the kitchen. “What a bunch of slobs,” Ray said when Fraser had locked the front door behind them. “I can’t believe there were only four of us.”

“We could clean the mess up now if you’d like. Though it would probably be better if you got some rest. It’s been an unusual evening.”

“Unusual?” Ray poked Fraser in the chest. “Whose fault is it that we had a shootout at the neighbor’s house?”

It was hard to see in the living room, but they were close enough that he could make out Fraser’s surprise. He was going to say something stupid, Ray was sure of it, so he pushed Fraser up against the door and kissed him hard. His split lip was on fire, but he didn’t care because this was Fraser and Fraser was worth all of the blood he’d swallowed.

Ray broke the kiss but didn’t move away, just kept his hands flat against Fraser’s chest and stared into his eyes. The shadows were even thicker here, just a faint reflection of light across his face.

“Jesus, Benny. I thought he’d killed you. And I just left you there.”

“Ray.” Fraser pushed him back a step, and Ray stumbled a little. He was shaking badly now, and it was cold standing there alone. “You were doing your duty. You had to help Martin first, whether I was injured or not. You did the right thing.”

He believed it, too, Ray saw that clear as if all the lights in the city were shining on them. Fraser and his _duty_ ; not angry, not resentful or scared or smug. Just “you did the right thing” and a congratulatory pat on the back. Ray’s hands clenched into trembling fists. He wanted to punch through a wall. “Fraser,” he said in the steadiest voice he could manage. Ray had to make him understand, but he didn’t have the words. “I thought you were _dead_.”

There was a shift in the air, then, and Ray knew Fraser finally got what he couldn’t say out loud, not even in the dark: he’d thought Fraser was dead, and nothing else had mattered after that, not his own life or anyone else’s. Cops with partners who were constantly throwing themselves in front of loaded guns and speeding trains couldn’t afford to react like that. He loved Fraser and he’d thought he was dead. “Ray.” Benny’s voice was low and liquid.

They stared at each other for a long minute, Ray trembling with need, desire burning like a wildfire inside of him. Then Fraser held his arms out a little to the side, palms up, and said in a deep, dark voice, “touch me. Remind me that I’m not.”

Ray reached purposefully past Fraser and turned on the light. They both blinked hard, but Ray was moving before he’d fully regained his sight, filling his hands, his mouth, with Fraser.

He kissed Fraser all over, tasting all of the skin he could find. The curve of his ear, the sweaty line where his neck and shoulder met, the stubbled cut of his chin. It was Fraser all over, Fraser hard against him and pulling him even closer, Fraser’s strong hands fumbling with the buttons of Ray’s shirt. He couldn’t get enough, had to keep touching and stroking and making himself believe that Fraser was real. Ray grabbed Benny’s white t-shirt and yanked it free of his jeans, then paused long enough to take a breath and help pull the shirt off entirely. He threw it behind him and devoured Fraser again, this time tasting the salt of his nipples, the fine, faint fuzz on his stomach. Above Ray, Fraser moaned softly.

He grabbed Fraser around the waist and, with one more quick kiss, guided him to sit on the couch and knelt down between his legs. Ray’s hands were still trembling as he undid Fraser’s belt. He kept thinking that he could’ve been at the morgue right now instead, identifying Fraser’s body, seeing that damned otter scar on flesh as cold as stone. Instead there was a pulse beating wildly in Fraser’s neck, and when Ray paused and placed his hand flat over Benny’s heart, he was met with a strong, beautiful heartbeat. The steady thud was like a drug. Ray stared at his hand, dark on pale skin, hypnotized.

“Ray,” Fraser finally whispered, covering Ray’s hand with his own. “Let me touch you.”

Jolted, Ray let Fraser help him slide his own shirt off, the cloth falling smooth and silent to the floor. Fraser ran his hands along Ray’s chest, pausing to brush lightly at the fresh bruises. But it felt wrong, somehow, and Ray couldn’t sit still anyway, so he pushed Fraser back against the couch and finished unzipping his jeans. Together they pulled them off, and then Ray tugged down the cotton boxers, releasing Fraser’s cock. Ray had had a lot of wet dreams about Fraser, but they couldn’t hope to compare to the scent-taste-feel of him, the musk and the weight and the salty bitterness. He licked a long, straight line from the base to the head, and then swallowed him, sucking hard. Fraser twisted a little, straining upward for more, and Ray gave it to him, grazing teeth lightly down the length. When Ray pulled back to look at him, Fraser’s hands made grasping motions at the air. Ray was already hard, and seeing Fraser slouched against the patterned fabric of the couch with his cock rigid and red, his face slack with pleasure, made him ache.

Fraser’s eyes fluttered open, focusing hazily, and Ray had a wild urge to make him swear to never leap in front of gunfire again. He’d threaten to withhold sex if had to, even though they both knew that would never work. Ray ran his fingers up Fraser’s thighs, over the boxers and up his stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps. It had taken a long time to see Fraser’s body and not experience a weird sense of wrongness at how many scars there were. Somehow, Ray had always expected it to be unmarked, perfect. But the hole in his back was proof that the Mountie was just a man like the rest of them. The bandage on his head just reminded Ray. And if Fraser had been perfect, maybe Ray would have made him swear to stop endangering his life, but Ray never would have asked, either, because that Fraser wouldn’t be here now, mostly naked and begging with hitched breaths for more. So Ray placed kisses on Fraser’s stomach and cock and forgot to be afraid.

“Please, Ray,” Fraser whispered, tugging at Ray’s shoulders even as he lapped at Fraser’s cock. When he paused, Fraser had him on his feet, and then Ray’s pants were around his ankles almost as quick. Fraser slid from the couch to land on the floor on his knees and dragged Ray down with him, pressing their bodies together when they were even. “I need this,” Fraser said when he wrapped his slick hand around both of their cocks. They pressed their foreheads together, and breathed each other in. Fraser’s hand was moving fast, pulling deep inside Ray, and Ray was sweating and moaning, struggling to hold on and focus on Benny’s hand, on the hard pulse of Fraser’s cock rubbing against his. He had one hand on the couch behind Fraser and the other arm wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling Fraser as close as he could. Ray’s heartbeat was loud in his ears, sounding like a drum, like a whole fucking orchestra, playing whatever crazed melody Fraser dictated. His whole body was tuned to it, until he felt Fraser’s guttural cry through all the points they touched, felt the hot splash of come against his stomach. And when Fraser’s hand jerked wildly, pulling Ray over the edge, he lifted his head and saw stars.

They collapsed against each other, panting uncontrollably. Ray released his grip on the couch cushion and placed his hand against the base of Fraser’s spine, drawing his fingers along the sweat there. Fraser had released their cocks and was stroking his hands along Ray’s arms, up and down, while his breathing slowed. The ache in Ray’s lip came back fast and fierce. He gently touched his tongue to it and cringed.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The paramedic should have warned me about blowjobs, though.” Against his body, Ray felt Fraser chuckle.

“I think we should leave the kitchen for tomorrow, Ray.”

Ray nodded, utterly exhausted. “I think we’ll leave the bed for tomorrow, too. I’m just going to sleep here after I clean up.” He started to rise, but Fraser held him down with a firm hand, pulled a throw pillow down from the couch and set it on the floor. Ray looked at it, trying to figure out what Fraser wanted. He couldn’t really be ready to go again, could he? Fraser pushed Ray to lie down, gave Ray a soft, slow kiss, and then excused himself. Ray stretched out on his back on the floor, half-asleep already but willing to trust Fraser.

Just as Ray was nearly asleep, Benny returned with a warm washcloth. He cleaned Ray up with gently efficient strokes, and then disappeared again. Ray yawned and shifted onto his side. Even as tired as he was, the world felt real to him again, the floor hard – maybe too hard – underneath him, the pillow fabric scratchy against his cheek. He’d have to check on Martin tomorrow, maybe go see Riley, too, make sure he would be all right. Then Fraser was back, and lying down next to him. Fraser’s skin was cool from the clean-up, but he was also alive and well and ready to go risk his life again tomorrow, so Ray decided not to complain.

“Ray?”

“Yeah, Benny?”

“I’m sorry that I scared you today.”

Ray shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not like you were pulling a practical joke.”

“I know that.” Fraser was quiet after that, but Ray could hear his brain churning, so he let Benny have some time. When Ray was almost asleep again, Fraser said, “I believe that I scare you quite often, Ray.”

Ray shifted onto his back. It was just like Fraser to want to have this conversation now. “You scare the hell out of me, Fraser. All the time.” Ray blinked at the ceiling, wondering where that had come from. He’d meant to just reassure Fraser and then go back to sleep.

Fraser shifted up onto his elbow and stared down at Ray. “I don’t mean to.”

“Yeah, I know that. I know it in my brain. But,” Ray looked away. “I don’t know it so much in my heart.” This was not the conversation he’d wanted to be having at three in the morning. He hadn’t wanted to be having any conversation at three in the morning. “Look, can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“No, Ray.”

Ray did look at Fraser, then, saw his face lined in concentration and worry, and felt like a heel. “Benny, I’m not pissed at you or anything. I mean, I was earlier in Martin’s house, sure, but that was just because I was freaked out. I’m fine now.”

“You were angry when we came home.”

“I was exhausted when we came home.” As if his body was trying to help the argument, Ray let out a loud, jaw-cracking yawn.

“Ray.” And in that one word, Ray knew they’d be finishing this conversation tonight. He sighed heavily and pushed himself up, leaning back against the couch.

“Ok, fine. Yeah, I was mad when we came home. I was a wreck and you were as collected as ever, ready to leap off a tall building or in front of a gun. Sometimes I get really tired of worrying about you, and you don’t seem to care.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Ray.”

“Yes, I do, you stupid Mountie. I love you.” Ray gestured helplessly. “But see, that’s the dumb thing, right? I love you because you leap out windows and know things no normal person should know. So worrying about you is, I don’t know, part of the package.” _Clearly_ , Ray thought, _three in the morning is like some sort of truth serum._ “Anyway,” he said on a sigh, “I know you can’t help it. And sometimes it’s going to make me mad, but I don’t want you to change. Now can I go to sleep?”

“No.”

“ _Fraser_ -“

“I worry about you, too.”

“About my mental health?”

“Ray.” Ray held up his hands in apology. “I worry that you’ll be injured. A worry not without precedence, I might add.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Fraser tilted his head a little. “What do you mean?”

“We’re just going to go on working together and worrying about each other?”

“What else would you suggest?”

Ray had no answer for that. “You really worry about me?”

“All the time,” Fraser said.

Ray brushed his fingers across Fraser’s cheek, down his chest. “Then I guess we’re even.”

“I suppose we are.”

“And neither one of us is going to change.”

“It doesn’t seem likely.”

“Then we can go to sleep.”

“If you insist.” Fraser placed one warm hand on Ray’s thigh, squeezing gently.

Ray was suddenly a lot more awake than he had been.

Later, they lay together on the floor again, Ray’s mouth aching from Fraser’s hungry kisses, his body weary down to his bones. Benny was pressed tight against Ray’s back, his arm slung over Ray’s waist. It was somehow a relief that Fraser was worrying about him as much as he worried about Fraser. Like they would take care of each other better that way. He thought about telling Fraser that he didn’t mind worrying; that having Fraser lying next to him was worth any price, even if it sometimes hurt. But Benny’s breathing was deep and slow, and the sky was creeping towards dawn and if Ray didn’t get some sleep soon he’d be useless at work.

Instead, Ray stared out the window at the faint glimmer of stars, until he drifted asleep to the feel of Benny’s heartbeat, keeping time with his own.

**Author's Note:**

> silver_cyanne’s request was:
> 
> Three things you want in your story: something showing the boys as friends along with being lovers, I'm an absolute sucker for "I thought you were dead" fics, Ray & Dief interacting, established relationship (okay, I can't count but any of the above would make me happy).
> 
> Poem fragment that Fraser recites is from "Then And Now" by John McCrae.
> 
> Title from this quote from Thomas Hardy's Far From The Maddening Crowd: "The sky was clear -- remarkably clear -- and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse."


End file.
